Going Nowhere Fast
by Min Daae
Summary: Rhaegar/Lyanna; pre-War, have a little time together. Lyanna is a little wild, Rhaegar is along for the ride. Written for the 'laughter' prompt for the Porn Battle VIII.


Rhaegar liked the way Lyanna ran her fingers through his hair, catching at the tangles, lifting it and letting it fall through her fingers. Curious, like a child with a shiny toy. "It doesn't look real," she observed. "I'm used to it, and still it looks as though you've painted silver gilding over your hair."

He allowed himself a small smile. "You've found me out."

"I always do," she said, with that supreme arrogance he loved in her. She twined his hair up in a knot and put her face to his neck, breathing out lightly on his skin. "Is the rest of you painted silver as well?"

He heard himself make the soft noise in his throat. "Not that I've ever seen…"

"Well?" She stood, letting his hair flow black down his back. "The Free Islanders paint themselves," Lyanna murmured. "All over their bodies. With many different things."

"Have you seen these?"

"No, but I know. I had one done myself." She stretched. "They're permanent."

Rhaegar raised his slender eyebrows at her, dubiously. "Really."

"Aren't you going to ask?" Her expression was so perfectly innocent that he had to narrow his eyes, wary. Lyanna never looked that innocent.

"Ask what?"

"Where it is."

Rhaegar felt the slow flush diffuse down his neck. "I think you'll tell me anyway," he told her dryly. "But where is it?"

"Do you want me to show you?"

The blush spread. He could see the wicked light in her eyes. "…yes, I rather think I do want."

Lyanna's smile flashed, bright and unexpected. "You'll have to catch me first," she murmured, and darted away, fled fleet and light of foot into the sun-dappled trees.

He sprang to his feet and followed her, laughing, watching the flash of her dress and her dark hair streaming behind her. Her laughter mocked him, and he found the sash of her summer dress first, strewn carelessly on the ground. "Lyanna!"

She laughed from ahead of him, and her words floated back like the streaming silk torn from her skirt, caught on the branches. He didn't pause for that. "You didn't think I'd make it _easy, _did you?"

"Nothing is ever easy with you," he shouted after her, not knowing if she heard, but it was most of her bodice he found next and Rhaegar sped up. "Lyanna – we may not be alone here –"

Her laugh was careless; he could almost see her tossing her head in that imperious, wild way of hers. "And what do I care?" He could see her just ahead now, darting through the trees, her pale skin gleaming. "You haven't caught me yet, Rhaegar…"

"Nor do I think I will; you've always been faster than me."

"So speed up!"

He growled. "The blood of the dragon cannot be beaten," he said, fighting not to laugh, and pushed himself harder.

She surprised him. The flicker of water through the trees caught his eye and he glanced toward it. She caught his ankle and he tripped, violently, and fell face first into the spring, managing to turn it into a somersault at the last moment.

He surfaced spluttering and furious. "Lyanna-"

"Laugh a little," She said, arms slipping around him from behind. He could feel her naked body pressed to his, suddenly, and was intimately aware of it. She rubbed up and down against his back, breasts pressed to him. "Live a little."

His anger melted away in spite of himself. "You make it hard not to," he told her. "Have you considered,"

"Oh, shut up," Lyanna said cheerfully, and then dove underwater. A moment later, hands were tugging at his breeches. He jerked away, startled.

"What do you think you're doing, Lyanna," he started to say as she surfaced, shaking her hair back and looking cross, but she cut him off again. "Hold still a moment," she said, and as it sometimes was with her, it was a command rather than a request.

Then she was underwater again, her fingers deftly undoing his laces. She slipped her hand into the front of his breeches. Rhaegar was quite sure that the noise he made was not dignified at all. She surfaced again, laughing, hand still hooked down the front of his breeches, and his eyes were drawn to her breasts, small to fit her slender figure, tipped with dark nipples erect for the cool water. Her dark eyes danced.

"A reason they call it waking the dragon, I guess," she teased.

He twitched. "This is no laughing matter. Anyone could-"

She went underwater again, tugging his breeches down, and he lost the ability to argue as she licked his thigh and curled her hand around his shaft, thumb rubbing in small circles at his tip. This time he was sure the noise wasn't dignified. "i_Lyanna-/i_"

She surfaced, and this time she wasn't laughing, flushed. She seized his hand without talking and dragged him into shallower waters. She swam ahead of him, and watching her knife through the water, letting it stroke her as his hands hadn't done, was driving him madder than his father.

He caught her when she was nearly to shore and pulled her to him forcefully. His hand slipped between them, seeking between her legs, and she threw her head back and moaned, dark head sleek, as he slipped his fingers between her folds and Lyanna's hands were in his hair, pulling his head back.

"Rhaegar – dammit – dammit, just do it already, do me already-!" But of course, she wasn't going to wait, her legs wrapping powerfully around his waist, her nails on his neck pressing into the skin with a hiss as she pulled herself onto him.

Rhaegar swam for both of them, as Lyanna seemed entirely to have forgotten the need for it, bucking up and down his cock, the swirl of the water adding something more to it. He moaned, stirred by the strangeness of her taking control so obviously, but he could see it in her face, in her expression, breasts heaving, that it was new for her as well.

The sensation of her body on and around his was overtaking him as well. Rhaegar brought his hands to her hips, under water, down to clasp her buttocks, and was pleased to feel her squirm under his touch, and then he felt something like she was – fluttering, around him, and judging by the sound she made and the way her eyes rolled back in her head, it felt good.

Panting now, needing his own relief, he moved her hips along him once, twice, and with a groan that he bit down on he let go. Lyanna hung on him, still wrapped around him arms and legs, her head fallen forward on his shoulder.

Suddenly he worried, thinking of Rhaella's bruises. "Lyanna?"

She lifted her head slowly, detaching from him, and then grinned, a bit shakily. "I think I need to do that more often," she said, eyes a little wide, and then she was laughing again.

He had to swim them both to shore. Lying on the grass, drying, Rhaegar looked sideways. "You never did tell me where that painted bit of skin was."

She looked a little sheepish. "Oh, that. I lied." She rolled closer to him and brought one leg up over his hip. "But I could always get one if you wanted me to."

"What of," he asked, trying to ignore the way her skin felt on his. "A dragon?"

She snorted and shifted atop him again, elbows propped comfortably on his chest. "Don't be ridiculous. A direwolf."


End file.
